Of Death Notes, Dead SPK Members & Super Mario 64
by zorrie
Summary: Sorry about the laundry list title, but it's the best I've got. Fluff bordering on crack!fic. Bowser had better watch out.


I... don't _think_ I messed up canon. There was still that controversy over the 13 day rule when Mello used the Note on the SPK, right? Ah, I can't really remember. Apologies if I got that wrong. Also, the idea of using the Note on Bowser is the insane brainchild of turnip_girl :3 I just played around with it xD

.

"Mello, snap out of it. You have an unimaginable ability to rationalize your own wrongdoings. Use it."

Mello looks up sharply.

"Really. You didn't have a problem with it then, so what's changed now?"

But Matt understands, even if he wishes he didn't. Mello's hands are shaking slightly and they're wrapped around his crucifix, which he's taken off from over his neck.

"I wasn't thinking," Mello snaps, and his eyes widen a bit as he realizes the words. "I wasn't _thinking_."

Matt looks away. "Yes you were. You were seeing the world through your own eyes, where your every act is justified. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but at least admit it to yourself. 'Kay?" He sighs and lights a cigarette.

Okay, so Mello leveled most of the SPK. It was a bit… tactless. But it's over, it's done. Near can deal.

He glances up and there's Mello, leaning over the windowsill, staring out at the grimy streets with a blank face and glazed eyes.

Great. Now he's building a fortress behind his eyes, and Matt's annoyed because he doesn't feel like getting up off the couch at the moment. He's trying to save Peach for the umpteenth time, and giving Mello a slap in the face or a snog or a shag, or whatever it takes to bring him back from the depths of solitude, is just going to have to wait. He's beaten this game before, but he'd been half high then and nothing seems to be working for Matt today anyway.

"Don't sulk, please. I'm pointing it out because you bitch that no one stands up to you, and it's lonely being an intimidating, incomparable genius. Well, you're not." A tinny tune rings out ominously; Matt loses the boss fight. It's Mello's fault. He's distracting. Matt gives up and runs through the level again, amusing himself by making Mario jump forward while climbing the vertical wall. It makes him fall back matrix style.

"Let me reiterate. Fuck the mafia, _I _stand up to you. Sorry, Mel, but you're not perfect. And I've only given you what you wanted, so refrain from throttling me?"

Mello dismisses Matt's concerns with a wave and a shrug. He walks over, though, and collapses onto the couch beside Matt. "I wouldn't try to throttle you."

Matt pauses his game and laughs briefly. "Yes, you would. You have. Hell, last night you nearly succeeded." Matt exhales a haze of cigarette smoke in his direction.

Mello scowls. "Those were different circumstances."

Indeed. There's a cut on Mello's lip and a scratch Matt clawed down his shoulder, but Mello inflicted his share of destruction as well, and there are myraid new bruises blooming below the stripes of Matt's shirt; all's fair in love and war. Matt smiles and leans in for a kiss. Mello complies.

"I'm not criticizing you," Matt breathes, when Mello breaks away.

"I know."

They settle comfortably into the silence. Matt itches to pick up his game, but now doesn't seem like quite the moment. "So. Why'd you do it?"

Mello fixes Matt with a ruthless gaze, one Matt's seen several times before – it's Mello's _I do not care about rationality, do _not_ mess with_ _me or I will tear you down _expression. No, Mello certainly isn't perfect. Everybody cracks.

"Okay," Matt continues converstationally. "Hey, do you think that thirteen day rule is a fraud?"

Mello grunts noncommitally and puts an arm up over the back of the couch, crossing his left leg over his right. "Probably."

"Okay." Matt reaches for his DS, then waits. Mello says nothing, so Matt resumes playing. Super Mario 64 is entertaining at the least, and Bowser looks like someone's poured transmission fluid over him. Either that, or he's turned gay. He's fucking _rainbow_.

"Hey Mello," he says sometime later, when he's grabbed that stupid fire breathing turtle by the tail and spun in circles so many times he's dizzy, "do you think the Death Note would work on Bowser?"

"Do I _what_?"

"Do – you – think," Matt repeats, "the – "

"I heard you, moron," Mello cuts him off. The look on Mello's face is a dead heat between hilarity and exasperation, and Matt grins. He loves knocking Mello off balance. Metaphorically, but literally, too. Especially when there's a bed to knock Mello onto. Off-balance Mello is a wonderful thing. But Matt's mind is straying off topic.

"Look, if the thirteen day rule is for real, I don't want to have to commit suicide like Romeo and Juliet. It's cliché. Admittedly likely as it is that the Kira case will take care of that for me, I enjoy pretending to myself there's a chance we'll succeed. If we do, and that rule is true, I'm fucked. Also Bowser is pissing me the hell off and I want that cake."

Mello blinks. "Cake?"

"Yes. Mario restores the power of the stars to the castle, and Princess Peach bakes him a cake. She gives him a kiss on the nose, too, but I don't care about that."

"You'd better not." Mello shakes his head, as though he can't fathom Matt's insanity.

Matt sees the eye-roll coming, and opens his mouth to defend himself, but Mello intercepts Matt with an unexpected tackle. Matt gasps a bit, then looks up at Mello straddling him and smirking and sliding his hands under Matt's shirt. He wonders if Mello will do a little more than that to be spiteful if Matt acts annoyed. Hmm. Reverse psychology…?

"Get off me, or I'm finding that Death Note right now," Matt mumbles, obviously completely lying, and Mello obviously completely knows it and tugs at his hair.

"You fool. You're not going to try to kill Bowser with the Death Note, you're not touching it, you're not going near it," Mello threatens, then softens the sting with another kiss. It's wet with more spit than finesse, and Matt twists under him, humming in the back of his throat. He could sit and kiss forever and not mind, just lounge in Mello's lap and they'd twist and lip at eachother.

Matt kind of thinks he should say something serious, because of all the risks he's comfortable with running, the chance of living without Mello isn't one of them, but Mello is wrapping his fingers around Matt's wrists and moving them over his head, and everything about his body over Matt's just feels so _right_.

"Mario's never going to get his kiss," Matt objects, "and he went through a hell of a lot of trouble for Peach."

Mello does wonderful things with his tongue, and then he draws back, eying Matt incredulously.

"Okay, I'm shutting up now."

"Much better," Mello approves, and goes back to doing wonderful things with his tongue. "Now stop thinking," he murmurs, "and –"

"Christ, _Mello_ –"

"No, just Mello. But I'm honored."

At least, Matt tells himself, at least Mello's not in a funk over the SPK debacle anymore. There are benefits to being able to knock Mello off balance, and they definitely outweigh the risks. Risks such as pissing Mello off even further… but today's attempt ended well.

All's well that ends well.

And this is ending very well for Matt indeed. He'll just have to beat Bowser legitimately later.


End file.
